Harry Potter-Minerva McGonagall/Severus Snape-13: Yellow
Her striped tail twitched back and forth, mirroring her thoughts, as she eyed the mess of yellow threads.
Don’t do it, Minerva.
But cats love yarn.
You’re not a cat, you’re a woman. A sensible, grown one.
Not at the moment.
Stop being ridiculous!
I haven’t had a good romp with yarn in such a long time...
Absolutely not, you old fool!
She growled slightly in protest, and let instinct win. Her tabby-cat self pounced, claws unsheathed; there was a satisfying tug as they found their mark and snagged in the soft fibres. There followed a few blissful moments of tearing and shredding, a purr vibrating deep in her chest as she flipped onto her back and tangled her paws further into the yarn.
...And began sliding backwards, finally stopping with a soft thump against the toe of a boot. Minerva blinked and looked upwards, remains of the string forgotten.
“Amusing yourself, Minerva?” Severus’s hook-nosed face smirked down at her, the other end of her newfound toy dangling from his fingers. Disgruntled, Minerva transfigured herself back into human form and sat up.
“You left that there deliberately.”
Severus raised an eyebrow. “I did nothing of the sort.”
“Since when do you keep yarn in your sitting room? Not taking up knitting, are we?” Minerva snorted. She smoothed back her hair and joined him on the sofa.
Severus shrugged. “Not at all. Just a Christmas gift I hadn’t gotten around to putting away yet.”
Mortified, Minerva’s mouth fell open. “A Christmas-! Severus, I...Oh,” she said suddenly. “Oh, dear. You didn’t. Not Albus’s socks?”
A rare grin flitted across his features, making him look somewhat less sinister than usual. “Oh, is that what they were? How unfortunate.”
“He’ll be devastated, you know.”
“I know.”
Minerva gave him a sidelong glance. “And you’re not sorry at all, are you?”
“Not in the slightest.”
Minerva huffed and stared back at her handiwork; it looked very much as though a canary had spontaneously combusted in the middle of the rug. Suddenly, her eyes narrowed.
“You unravelled them.”
“Of course,” said Severus smoothly. “Couldn’t let you have all the fun, could I?”
Minerva frowned, accepting a glass of scotch with a murmured thank you, and glanced again at the mess. “Well, it never was your colour, anyway.”
“Precisely.”
“And what are you going to tell Albus when he asks you how you’re liking them?” said Minerva shrewdly.
Severus raised his glass to her slightly, a smirk once again playing around his mouth. “That-ah-they were put to good use, of course.”
“Git.”
“Happy Boxing Day to you too, Minerva.”